An Italian Affair (Jealousy Spin off)
by George Lucas Official
Summary: Written by Chewburt Grubplebuck, Steve Buscemi will find it! UGH!


An Italian Affair

 _The sauciest special by Chewie Grumplebuck_

The oversized hairy nostrils sniffed and searched in delight and wonder in the presence of the wonderful aromas drifting from the assortment of pies sitting snug and content on the shiny white countertop. Eyes went wide, and a shaky, veiny, crumbly hand brushed the top of one of these delicious treats.

"Ohh pookie pie I'll have you soooooo-o-o-o-o-n…" his last word drifted off in a pitiful moan of yearning and lust. His mouth began to drool uncontrollably, filling the top of the counter in a thin layer of bubbly saliva. Steve Buscemi slapped himself fiercely, angry for being tempted so easily. "Not today. Not even tomorrow. Not ever, ever, ever…"

Walking backwards from the kitchen, Steve turned his gay walk into a bountiful trot, anxious to start his day with a quality walk through his garden. His nose holes were still burning with the sensation of having mutilation anchored through the deepest depths of his olfactory senses. Sweet, sensual aromas of flowery goodness drifted through his perverted mind in a flash. Children, fat, old, short, young, tall, and brave stood clearly as though they were directly in front of his rolling eyes. His erection popped forth clearly in the midday glare, ripping forth from his corduroy britches with a terrible snarling hiss.

"What to do, what to do...I wonder…" Steve thought hard about how to spend his time today. Despite being at home from Nightingale University of Cuisine, Steve still wanted to travel the exterior of the great blue ball: **Earth**. Humming absently to himself, Steve took a vicious u-turn into his favourite Tim Hortons store, where his best friend John Merrick stood working without end. Some rumours floated about that John had worked twenty four hours nonstop. Of course, if the rumours were true (and Steve seriously considered them to be so), then no one truly cared. John Merrick was one of the ruthless Elephant-Men, and Elephant-Men were not to be taken lightly.

"John, uh JOHN?!" Steve lost his delicate patience at not being answered right away by John. The creature behind the counter turned his pitiful head slowly and looked upon Steve with somber eyes, long since tortured.

"Ohhhh….hiiiiii Steeeeeeve," droned John in a long moan of wispiness.

"My mom is making eggplant parmesan tonight. You in?" Steve flashed John a quick smile, his yellowing teeth showing clear holes.

"Ohhhh...uhhhhh-" John began to answer, but was stopped at the sound of heavy footsteps coming through the employees room behind him.

"FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY JOHN?" whipped about John's manager Sanic as he buzzed into the lobby. "DID I HEAR YOU SAY THAT YOU'RE STAYING OVERNIGHT, BECAUSE I THINK I JUST DID." His eyes were popping, and a vein threatened to burst on his blue bezel furry forehead.

"Actuarially, ummmm, my friend here Steve just inviiiiiiiiiited meeeee toooo…" he trailed off at the wild and threatening look Sanic was giving him. He relented, sighing greatly. "Nevermind."

"Well, uh if you have the chance, stop by after. I have a gift I want to give you."

John gave Steve a confused and inquiring look as Steve walked backwards out the door. "Remember John...stop by…"

Steve hurried home quicker than an anabolic steroid rat on anabolic steroids. The smell of home fried turkey-bacon smelting over a hot flame brought a sob of gratitude to his wretchedly wrinkled face. No eggplant parmesan was to be found.

"So, mom, how was your afternoon?" inquired Steve as he sat down in his usual place at the table. Steve's mother, **Neil Breen** , turned and faced him, holding a hot tray of turkey-bacon.

"Well, honey, you won't believe what I have been working on today. You just won't believe it. It will blow your mind, you just will not believe it." (nee Breen) sat down opposite Steve. She wore a blue buttoned blouse dyed a deep, dark oozing red from all of the Syrian refugees she'd been slaughtering that afternoon. After all, only Steve knew what the "turkey" in the turkey-bacon was made of.

"And what's that, mom?" asked Steve as he took a delicious bite of the meaty surprise.

"Well, sweetie, as I may have mentioned before I've been working on a top secret project that works against the government, and today I'm going to unveil my discoveries." replied with an air of mischievous play.

"Wow mom that's really, really great." said Steve uninterestedly. He was fiddling with his meat and twiddling his toes. noticed this change in her usually vibrant son's behavior, and her eyes narrowed with care.

"What's wrong butter-cakes? Did something happen today at school? Was it that fucktard John Merrick again?"

"Mom you know John's my friend. Anyways, it wasn't that. It was...it was…"

Steve's voice began to tremble, and his eyes watered with brimming tears of disgust.

"Honeybunches what is it?" asked , flinging herself over the table in a single leap and holding Steve's hand tight.

"IT WAS THE KIDS AGAIN MOM!" screamed Steve, torn vocal cord flying from his throat from the sheer force of screaming so loud.

"Oh goD GOd JeSUS!" lost control as she sprinted across the room in an effort to claim her son's mutilated vocal cords. In a ravenous display of lust and greed, shoveled the strips of throat flesh into her cavernous mouth, swallowing some whole while further destroying others with her mandibles.

"Mom, mom I told you not to do that anymore!" Protested Steve, though without much backup for talking, he could barely utter a whisper.

"Crubbly snup up assface." shot back . She finished her second dinner in a twirling display. She flung a part of one cord over her shoulder, and began modelling like a supermodel on the catwalk.

"Whaddya think?" asked Mrs Buscemi, wild eyed.

"Very...very attractive, mom." Steve rolled his eyes at the thought of having to sit through another one of his mother's make-believe fashion shows. He nearly creamed his pants the last time Michael Jackson has screeched down the sidewalk on his unicycle. Now, his own mother? No thanks sunny Jim.

"Mom, Jesus you're embarrassing me, stop it!" surmised Steve.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BROKE MY HEART LIKE THIS STEVE!" Bellowed a mighty, earth-shaking voice from the doorframe. John Merrick stood stagnant and broken, blood dripping from his red-damp Tim Hortons garb, a chipped, crimson red hatchet held in his right hand.

"John...John I thought you would be by la-a-at er…" stammered Steve apologetically. He was at a complete loss for words. John was his only friend in the whole wide world, and to betray him in a fashion such as this? Unthinkable.

"Steeeeeeve I thought you loved meeeeeeee!" John trailed off and his horribly disfigured eyebrows lowered in repeated anger. The room shuddered with the energy emulating from John's crumpled pancake ridden dung head, and various objects about the room began spark and turn twitchedly. A toaster hurled itself at Steve's stomach; a spatula flinging at lightning speed at his right nostril. Finally, the oven rose in a slow, steady pace, and began to tip towards Steve.

"No, no no.." rasped out Steve frighteningly. Without any thought in stopping the oven, Steve did the only thing he was best at. Picturing young children running amok in a derelict playground, Steve's britches began to rip and tear from the pure force of flesh emulating in his crotch.

"I'M SORRY MOOOOOMMM….I'M SORRY JOOHHHNN…" Steve wept tears of humiliation and disrespect, terrified at the thought of what his own mother and best friend would think after this was over. His erection popped forth in a brilliant ray of crisp turquoise light, meeting the oven halfway towards Steve and acting as a hydraulic lift. Scrambling for safety, Steve fell out of the way just as the oven fell with an almighty nuclear blast. The shockwave sent flame spinning all around, dust swirling like a wicked tornado.

"My my, Steve I just didn't know you had it in you!" A voice sounded from the corner where John was standing. But standing there was John no more. Decked out in tight, laser crisp black clothing, and with an intimidating eyepatch to match, stood none other than-

"S*H*I*E*L*D Director Nick Fury?!" exclaimed the stunned duo of mother and son in unison. Eyes wide, Steve began to cry viciously, holding out a humble hand for the black man to shake.

"How would you like to come with me and be an Avenger?" proposed Fury in a business-like manner.

"Sound good to me!" piped up Steve, his eyes lighting up wide at all the opportunity he would have to use his powers for **evil**.

'Perfect. Just perfect. Now all you need to do is...suck my cock?" inquired Fury tentatively. Steve turned slowly towards him, his face held in a resolutely defiant position.

"I'm sorry Director Fury. That is something I cannot do. The only area this mouth is going is over the private parts of small children!" Steve's mom burst into an applause, tears of pride streaming down her red blotched face. Fury looked disappointed, but not unsurprised.

"Damn...I thought I could maybe convince you otherwise. Well, if that's your final answer, then our business is done here."

The tall black man and the short rat faced man stood adjacent to each other in the dimming of sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. Words had run dry.

"You know, Buscemi," surmised Fury, putting a weathered arm around the smaller of the two, "I was really hoping to have recruited you for this team. Really, really hoped."

Steve looked deep inside fury's eyes. There was something mysterious happening here. But what could it be?

"Well, I'm sorry Director Fury. I stand by my morals as straight as a tiger leopard in the middle of a strawberry jam session while in a snowstorm dancing the night away with Bill Cosby eating LOCO MOCO'S by the parcel ordering 5 different bouquets of hooker panties online and making intense eye contact with Jennifer Aniston while she does the autistic miranga. You should know that by now."

"Steve...Mr Buscemi...I have loved you since the day-"

"Fury, I think it's time you left now."

'So it is."

Fury stepped out in flowery meadow, and slowly walked away, leaving only the imprints of his silhouette in Steve's emotional wake.

The End.


End file.
